A Butterfly In Japan
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Post-ep for Chaos Theory. It's a Carby. Don't fight it, read it.
1. A Butterfly In Japan

Title: A Buttefly In Japan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: Chaos Theory, though if you read it, not much about the ep will be spoiled for you.   
This is Carby fluff.  
  
Archive: I'd love it, but send me an email first, please.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. If I did, would I REALLY be writing fanfic?  
  
  
  
  
You know, Carter's a great guy. The best, really. But sometimes he has the tendency to talk too  
much. Take right now, for example. Here we are, finally out of the hospital, standing on the  
edge of a lake, and all he can do is talk. True, he's talking about us, but still...too much talking.   
What is it he's saying now?  
  
"I'm just saying there's a risk in anything you do, right? But don't you wanna stack the odds in  
your favor? I mean, I'm drawn to you. It's kinda that simple. I've been drawn to you for two  
years, but chaos always seems to rule and I don't want it to rule. I wanna know where it's taking  
me."  
  
He's so adorable. He's trying to make a rock skip on the lake. It doesn't really work,  
considering the waves, but it was a noble effort. Meanwhile, I finally decide that I need to do  
something about the heat, so I unzip my jeans and shove them and my underwear down my legs.   
I stand up and start to pull my shirt over my head as Carter turns around and says, "Know what I  
mean?"  
  
Chaos. I'll give him chaos, all right.   
  
"Nope," I answer, look at him, then dash into the water. I finally surface and turn around to look  
at him once more. "Are you coming in?"  
  
Yep–he's adorable, all right. He just stands there for a few moments, looking at me in wonder.   
What? I said I was hot. "Trying to catch flies?" I ask him.  
  
I suppose that snaps him out of his reverie because all of a sudden he's pulling off his clothes and  
running into the water. He's swimming towards me, so what do I do? I dip back underwater and  
swim a little ways from him, toying with him. It's fun, and I know he enjoys the chase.  
  
When I come up for air, I spot him about a hundred yards away, facing the opposite direction,  
looking at the water intently, trying to spot me.  
  
"Hey, sexy," I call out, enjoying seeing him start and whip around. "Looking for something?"  
  
"You know," he answers as he swims in my direction. "It's not really fair to taunt a guy like this  
and then swim away. I'd go so far as to say it's just plain cruel."  
  
I smile at him. "I'm not swimming away now, am I?"  
  
He finally reaches me and I wrap my arms around neck, letting him do all the work for us. "Why  
do I have the feeling that things will never be dull with you, Abigail?"  
  
"That's because I'm a ball of pure excitement. I wouldn't recommend calling me Abigail on a  
regular basis, though."  
  
"Oh, yeah? And why's that?"  
  
I shrug. "It's a little too prim and proper for a girl like me. Besides, my mother always called me  
Abigail when I was bad."  
  
Carter chuckles at me. "You, bad? Perish the thought!" He leans in and gives me a gentle kiss  
on the lips. God, can this man kiss. I don't know how I've managed to go this long without  
kissing him. It feels like heaven. He is one talented man. The only bad part about kissing him is  
that we have to stop once in a while. Damn oxygen. "Mind if we move this closer to shore? My  
arms are getting a little tired of treading for two."  
  
"Oh, come on, Carter," I say as I unravel myself from him. "Be a man." With that, I swim away  
from him, back toward the shore. I don't even realize that he's not behind me until I see him pop  
up a couple of feet in front of me, finally able to stand. I hadn't realized he was that good of a  
swimmer. I'll have to keep my eyes on him.  
  
"'Be a man?'" he asks. "I'll show you a man."  
  
"Oooh. I'm sooo scared of big, bad John Carter."  
  
He reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me close. "I'm really not intending to even pretend to  
be scary. I'm kind of searching for maybe enticing you."  
  
"Carter, trust me. You've been enticing me for quite some time now." This time, I lean in to kiss  
him, which I think he kind of likes because, so far, he's generally been the one to instigate kissing.   
I can't exactly explain why he's the one; I guess maybe, deep down, I'm really an old fashioned  
girl who likes to be wooed. I know, I know–Abby Lockhart likes to be wooed? It's a strange  
concept, but I think it's probably the truth.  
  
We stay in the water, essentially making out, for quite some time. I don't know exactly how long  
because, well, when I'm kissing John Carter, I don't really care how much time passes. I really  
only focus on him. But, I do finally realize that the sun is getting higher in the sky, and it occurs  
to me that if we don't leave soon, we'll be putting on a free show for anyone who decides to they  
want to have a nice day at the beach. So, I reluctantly pull my lips away from his.  
  
"How about me move this somewhere more private?" I ask him.  
  
"Sounds like a plan to me," he answers, starting the swim to shore. "Your place or mine?"  
  
We emerge from the lake a moment later, and rush over to our clothes, trying to dress as quickly  
as possible. "Well, as tempting as it sounds to go back to your house and have sex just down the  
hall from your grandmother, I think we should take this party to my place." I can't seem to get  
my jeans up. I always forget how incredibly hard it is to put on jeans while wet. "Stupid pants," I  
mutter, finally getting them up my legs and over my hips. Close enough for government work.  
  
We're walking back toward his Jeep before he finally speaks again. "You know, I don't live with  
Gamma anymore."  
  
My eyes widen with surprise and I look over at him. "What?"  
  
He nods slowly. "Yeah. I finally decided it was time to get a place of my own. Again, I mean."  
  
"When did this happen?"  
  
He shrugs. "I don't know. About a month ago, I guess."  
  
"And why is this the first time I've heard about it?"  
  
He grins at me–that damn, adorable grin that I couldn't resist even if I wanted to. "Well, it  
doesn't exactly come up in conversation a whole lot. And how could I bring it up without it  
sounding like I was coming on to you?"  
  
I can't help but laugh a little. It's true. It would have sounded like a come on if he had just  
randomly blurted out that he had his own apartment. Not that I would have been against him  
coming on to me. I quite enjoy flirting with him. It's fun.  
  
We finally reach his car and settle in for the journey. "Let's go to your place, then. I haven't seen  
it yet, and it needs to be christened."  
  
"What makes you think it hasn't?" he asks me, pulling out of the parking and onto the street.  
  
I just give him a look. "Are you trying to tell me that you've been bringing girls back to your  
place? In the past month? When two of those four weeks have been spent almost entirely with  
me at the hospital, and the other two were...well, they were actually spent at the hospital, or  
hanging out with after work. Come on, John."  
  
"Can't take a little teasing, Miss Lockhart?"  
  
"Oh, I can take teasing," I tell him. "It's just that I live in the little place called Reality, and I  
know you haven't been making any booty calls lately."  
  
He gives me a mock-offended look. "And how would you know that?"  
  
"Because you've been pining away for me for quite some time now."  
  
He lets out a snort of laughter. "Pining? I don't know if I'd go that–"  
  
"Just the same as I've been waiting around for you for a while, too," I concede.   
  
"Fair enough." I see him look at me out the corner of his eye. "Pining..." he mutters, teasingly.  
  
Before long, he pulls into the parking lot of an apartment complex. Nice place, from the looks of  
it. Of course, I really wouldn't expect anything else from Carter. It doesn't seem like it's that far  
from my place, either, so that'll be convenient.  
  
"This is it," he tells me, getting out of the car and grabbing his bag from the back. "My humble  
abode." Before I have a chance to even open the door, there he is, opening it for me. Such a  
gentleman. "After you, mademoiselle."  
  
Together, we make our way inside the building and to the elevator bank. As we're waiting for an  
elevator to arrive, I check out the lobby. The lobby. Definitely a nice place. "This is pretty  
swank looking, Carter. It must be costing you a bundle."  
  
"Actually," he says as we step into an elevator and he hits the button for the fifth floor. "It's  
pretty affordable. I got really lucky and found a place just as it was opening up. I came down  
here, looked at it, and signed the papers that day. It was too nice to pass up."  
  
A moment later, we're heading down the hallway and we stop in front of apartment 503. As he  
unlocks the door, he looks down at me and waggles his eyebrows. "Want me to carry you over  
the threshold."  
  
I let out a little snort. "Try it and see what happens."  
  
"Oooh, a challenge!" But he apparently decides not to risk it and instead opens the door for me.  
  
I can't help but look around in amazement. Basically, he's been here for two weeks, but the place  
is already completely furnished and decorated. Aside from a little bit of dust that has collected  
over the past fourteen days, it's immaculate. It's huge, too. It actually looks way too big for one  
person. As I think that, another thought flashes through my mind–maybe he wasn't planning on  
just one person living here when decided to rent it. I quickly push that thought of my mind; I care  
about Carter, a lot, but it's just way too soon to be thinking about things like that.   
  
"So, tell me about it, Carter."  
  
He just shrugs, walking over to the couch and tossing his bag down on it. "Just your basic  
apartment, I suppose. Living room, kitchen, bathroom–with a shower stall and a bathtub,  
personal washer and dryer, and two bedrooms."  
  
"You call that basic?" I ask, wandering around the living room. My apartment building doesn't  
even have community washer and dryers. They make us go to the laundromat."  
  
"Well, you're welcome to come over here and do laundry, if you'd like," he comes up behind me,  
wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing my neck. I love it when he does that. Kiss my neck,  
I mean. He does it so well. Seriously, he is a highly skilled kisser.  
  
I almost let myself get caught up in the moment, which isn't hard to do when John Carter is  
kissing you, believe me, before I realize that I have nasty lake water all over me. "Mind if I use  
your shower?" I manage to ask, though it's in a voice that I really don't recognize. It's about an  
octave lower than usual, and it almost sounds like a purr.  
  
"Aww, Abby," he whines. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"  
  
"Yeah, I know. But I really need to take a shower, and it'll only take me a few minutes. Do you  
mind?"  
  
"Of course not. Knock yourself out. Call me if you need any help."  
  
I just throw a grin at him over my shoulder as I walk down the hallway. The door to the  
bathroom is open, so I'm saved the trouble of asking him where it is. I shut the door behind me  
and look around. Even the bathroom in this place is nice. I think I'm going to be spending a lot  
of time here.  
  
I adjust the water temperature and step under the spray. I use his soap and shampoo, figuring  
we've exchanged bodily fluids, so why not? Within five minutes, I'm finished, but I realize that I  
haven't really planned ahead. All of my clothes are out in the living room, and, really, I don't plan  
on wearing any clothes in the near future, so it's kind of a waste. I finally spot a couple of towels  
hanging on a rack, and wrap one around myself. It's quite massive, and it feels like it's brand  
new. Of course, knowing Carter, it probably is.  
  
I wander out into the living room, but find no one there. I hear noises coming from the kitchen,  
and find Carter standing at the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. He grins at me cheekily. "Did I  
say you could use my towels."  
  
"Do you think I'm afraid of walking around naked?" I counter.  
  
He puts the bowl in the sink, then crosses his arms over his chest. "Go ahead. I dare you."  
  
Choosing to ignore that dare, I walk over to him, lean up and give him a quick kiss. "Do you  
have a bathrobe I can borrow?"  
  
He nods, leading me into his bedroom. He opens the closet door and pulls out a soft, dark blue  
checked, worn-in cotton robe. "My favorite robe for my favorite girl."  
  
"I'm touched," I tell him dryly. "Really, I am." Though, actually, I kind of am. Judging by the  
way it feels, he's had it forever. I wrap it around my body and it makes me feel like I'm  
surrounded by him. It sounds unbelievably mushy and romantic, but I can't help it. I like the guy,  
and the thought of being surrounded by him doesn't disturb me in the slightest. I let the towel  
drop to the floor as I tighten the sash around my waist. I know he's staring at me, but I don't  
really mind. If he wants to look at me, so be it.  
  
He snaps himself out of his trance and says, "I'm going to take a shower, too. I'll be back in two  
shakes of a lamb's tail."  
  
I actually laugh out loud at that one. "Sure, Carter." He walks into the bathroom, which is  
conveniently connected to his bedroom. "Hey!" I call after him, waiting until he pokes his head  
back into the bedroom.  
  
"Yes?" he asks.  
  
I pull his robe open and flash him for a couple of seconds. "Don't forget about me," I tell him,  
winking. I tighten the robe once more and head out into the living room to dig my brush out of  
my bag. A moment later I hear the water start, and I drift off in my thoughts, absently brushing  
my hair while staring out the window. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel Carter nibbling on  
my ear.   
  
He laughs a little at my reaction. "Sorry," he tells me, but doesn't stop nibbling. The bastard. I  
know he's not sorry. He likes to catch me off-guard just as much as I like to do the same to him.   
He gently grabs my arm and pulls me back toward his bedroom, and I notice that he's wearing  
nothing but a towel. It's a good look for him. He should try it more often. On the other hand, if  
he did that, then I'd have to beat all the other women off of him. Of course, I'll probably have to  
do that anyway. "I want to show you just how much I didn't forget about you." He leans down  
and hungrily kisses me.  
  
"No, I think you forgot all about me. And now you have to make it up to me," I mumble against  
his lips, wasting no time in taking off his towel, just as he is eagerly pulling off the robe.  
  
"Potato, Potahto," he responds before I push him down onto his bed.  
  
"You talk too much, Carter."  
  
So, here we are a few hours later, lying together in his large, unbelievably comfortable bed. Right  
now, I can barely keep my eyes open, and I think he's having the same problem. I should just let  
myself go to sleep, but I can't bring myself to yet. I like watching him like this. And part of me  
still can't believe that I'm here with him. I guess I'm worried that if I go to sleep, when I wake  
up, it'll all be a dream. I stroke his hair, and kiss his forehead, and pull him closer to me. I hope  
it's always like this. I can seriously see myself with him for a long time, and I hope that we're  
always this giddy and happy with each other. I hope that we–  
  
"I may talk too much, Abby, but you think too much. Go to sleep," he mumbles.  
  
Killjoy. I grab a spare pillow and whack him over the head. "Shut up, Carter."  
  
I feel him grin against my breastbone, then sigh as he finally drifts off. I finally let my eyes close,  
and follow him into sleep. 


	2. Bride Of Chaotica

Title: A Butterfly In Japan II: Bride of Chaotica  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: Just real vague Chaos Theory stuff. It's more Carby fluff.  
  
Archive: Totally dude. Just email me first.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Obviously. If they were, I wouldn't be here.  
  
Author's notes: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter yet. I don't know if it does the first  
part justice or not, so don't be surprised if it disappears. Until then, though, enjoy it.  
  
  
  
  
I'm gonna start calling Carter "my little butterfly." If for no other reason, it'll irritate him to no  
end. He keeps trying to insist that he's chaos to me, but he really isn't. I suppose, technically, he  
is the "unknown," as he puts it, but I just don't feel that it's possible that someone I know so well  
could be the unknown to me. It certainly doesn't feel unknown to me. I don't mean that he's  
predictable or that we've already become routine, because it's far from that. It's just,  
well...Carter feels like home to me. In the best way possible. I feel comfortable and safe and  
happy around him, and I don't see that there's anything wrong with that.  
  
I suppose he thinks that it means he's not exciting or something. Just because I tell him that he's  
not chaos. Though, I guess if I were him, I wouldn't necessarily enjoy being called a butterfly.   
Hmm.   
  
Our week of freedom is almost over. We have about forty-eight hours before we have to be back  
at work. I know we really intended to sleep in every morning and just lounge around all day,  
everyday, but that hasn't worked out. We found ourselves at the very least awake everyday by  
8am, and then we'd be out doing stuff. Not anything special, just stuff–taking walks, getting  
coffee, even hanging out at the mall. We'd usually be up past midnight, too. I don't think either  
of us wanted to waste a minute of our time together. Every morning, we wake up practically  
wrapped around each other–either I'm draped over him, or he's draped over me, or we're  
spooning, or we're face to face with all of our limbs tangled together. It feels like we can't get  
close enough to each other. Hell, we've been building up to this for two years now, we deserve a  
little bit of schmoop.   
  
I don't know if either of us planned on spending every single moment together once we were  
released from the hospital. Personally, I knew that I wanted to spend a lot of time with him, and  
I'm pretty sure he felt the same way, but we've hardly left each other's sides all week. And the  
best part of all is, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I have enjoyed every minute with him.   
Even when he's trying to convince me that he's chaos, too. It's mostly just banter, anyway, and  
we've really developed a knack for banter over the years.   
  
"Aren't I at least a little chaotic?" Carter asks me suddenly.  
  
I groan and look over at the clock. "John, it's only 7:30 in the morning. Give it a rest, huh?"  
  
"Come on, Abby. You get to be chaos. Why aren't I?"  
  
I sigh. "Why do you insist that you're chaos?"  
  
He shrugs, then positions himself so that he's leaning on one elbow, looking down at me.   
"Because I feel that I'm exciting and interesting enough to be chaos."  
  
"You are exciting and interesting!" I exclaim. "You're just not chaos!"  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
I move so that I am also up on one elbow, facing him. I ignore the sheet that slides down my  
body and puddles around my waist. Let him be distracted. It'll make it easier to get his mind off  
this whole thing. Sure, it's a cheap shot, but I don't hear him complaining. He's also having a  
hard time keeping eye contact.  
  
"How are you chaos, Carter? What have you done to my life to make it chaotic? It's not as if  
you bring insanity and confusion into my life. You don't turn things upside down, or make the  
world start spinning in another direction–"  
  
He cuts me off. "You make me sound like so much fun."  
  
"You are fun. I love being with you. I always have. But you don't make my life crazy. You do  
just the opposite. You make my life good. You bring peace and you make things calm. Who  
have I always turned to when things start to go haywire in my life? You. And you know why?   
Because you're not chaos. Because you're exactly what I need in my life. You make things right.   
Isn't that good enough for you? I know being a butterfly doesn't seem as interesting as being a  
tornado or chaos, but I think it's spectacular. And I wouldn't have you any other way. So, yes,  
basically, you are the butterfly to my tornado, because I know that I bring a lot of insanity where  
ever I go, but isn't that okay? We balance each other out."  
  
Wow. It finally all came out. I didn't mean to blurt all that out like that, but I need him to  
understand that he's wonderful the way he is, and why he's wonderful, and that just because I  
don't find him chaotic, that doesn't mean anything bad.  
  
Great; now he's being silent. It worries me when he doesn't speak. He looks highly  
contemplative. I sigh, once again, in frustration and flop back down in bed, waiting for him to  
speak.  
  
Finally, he says, "You really feel that way about me?"  
  
I look at him in amazement. "Why would I make that up? Of course that's how I feel about  
you."  
  
I'm not entirely sure, but he looks floored. "I didn't know that."  
  
And now I feel bad–how could I have not let him know somehow that this is how I feel about  
him? I'm head over heals for this man and he didn't know.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asks me.  
  
I shake my head. "I just can't believe that I didn't let you know how much I care about you, and  
how you make me feel. I guess I thought you knew."  
  
He lays down once more. He puts his head next to mine on the pillow, wraps an arm around my  
waist and pulls me close to him. "I think I knew. At least deep down. You just don't talk a  
whole lot about your feelings, though, so I guess it's hard to tell at times."  
  
"Well, then, I should have made it clear to you."  
  
"I know now."  
  
"Yeah, I guess. But we've been together almost non-stop for nearly three weeks and I didn't let  
you know..."  
  
"It doesn't matter. Now I know how you feel about me. And let me tell you something, Miss  
Lockhart...you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say things like that. All this time  
I've been waiting for you, wanting you, wishing I was with you, and now we're finally together,  
and I think part of me is still afraid to hope that it's true. It just seems like this is a really good  
dream, and at any moment, I'm going to wake up alone, in my bed at Gamma's house. I was  
afraid you wouldn't really feel the same way about me that I do about you and this would be just  
kind of a fling, and that's the last thing in the world I want to have with you."  
  
I turn my head to the side a little and kiss his nose. "What do you want to have with me?"  
  
"The real deal. I've told you, I want us to work. I want us to be together for a long time, and I  
really don't think I could handle it if you didn't want the same thing."  
  
Oh, God. I'm actually crying now. I don't cry. Not a lot, anyway. I'm not technically crying,  
though–one tear trickled out of my eye. I rub my face against the pillow, hoping he won't notice.   
In all the time I've known Carter, I don't think he's ever seen me cry. I don't know what I'm so  
worried about or whatever. I guess it's a control thing for me, and I just don't enjoy crying in  
front of anyone.  
  
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "I saw that," he whispers. Damn. I was caught.  
  
"Abby..." he says softly, trying to gather his thoughts. "Do you have any idea how much you  
mean to me? I mean, any idea at all? Because you're really damn important in my life. I've never  
been this crazy about woman for this long without doing something about it. Before, if I've liked  
a girl, I'll either tell her about it or get over it. But I couldn't get over you, Abby. No matter  
how hard I tried. And I didn't really want to get over you. I just wanted to be with you. You're  
so special."  
  
Son of a bitch. Another tear. How can he do this to me? Not that these are sad tears or  
anything. I think they're the happiest tears I've ever cried in my life. But it just astounds me that  
he can move me to tears with just a few simple words. Though, these words carry a lot of  
meaning. They're big words for us to be saying.   
  
I sniffle a little, trying to suck it up. There's no need for tears right now.  
  
"You know, it's okay to cry. Everybody does it once in a while. Even big tough guys like me."  
  
I let out a watery laugh at that. "I don't do a lot of crying."  
  
"I know," he says, kissing my forehead. "But it's still okay to cry. Especially in front of me.   
That's what I'm hear for."  
  
"I'm not upset or anything," I say, trying to reassure him. "It's just hearing you say the words.   
And the words are beautifully put together, Carter. I don't think I realized you felt like this about  
me, either. I really should have known, and I had a pretty good idea, but..."  
  
"I know. Neither one of us are very good at expressing our emotions. At least not when it  
counts."  
  
"Well, then, let's make a promise to each other. Not that we'll always tell each other every single  
feeling that we have, but that we'll tell each other how we feel more often. It'll leave less room  
for guess work and anxiety. And not talking about things is one of the big reasons relationships  
end, and I definitely don't want this to end with you."  
  
"You've got yourself a deal," he answers, pressing his lips against mine. I must care about him a  
lot because I never even consider if he has morning breath or not. I love how it's the little things  
that don't matter when you're with someone. Even if it's something simple as that. It's  
wonderful.  
  
We're silent for several minutes before I finally speak up again. "So, are you really all right with  
not being chaos now?"  
  
He lets out a big belly laugh. "I am most definitely all right with not being chaos to you. If being  
a butterfly to you means making you feel this way, then I'm the happiest man in the world. Who  
needs chaos, anyway?"  
  
"You do. Because that's what I am to you. Remember?"  
  
"I never said I needed chaos. I just enjoy it. As long as that chaos comes in the form of Abby  
Lockhart."  
  
"So, that means you just enjoy me, but don't need me?" I ask, teasing him, still trying to get us  
down from the emotional high we're on.  
  
"You have no idea how much I need you. If you did, you'd run away screaming," he tells me.  
  
Not hardly. Considering I need him like I need oxygen, I don't think he could really scare me off  
at this point. "I don't think I'd run away screaming."  
  
"That's good to know."  
  
"I'd probably back away slowly, then skitter off when you weren't looking."  
  
"Oh, ha ha. That's funny. Unfortunately for you, I'm always looking. So you have no chance of  
escape."  
  
"And this is why I haven't and won't ever run away," I reassure him.  
  
We lay in silence for quite awhile. It's a very comfortable silence, too. Wrapped up in each  
other's arms, heads pressed together. We're even inhaling and exhaling at the same time. We're  
so in tune with each other sometimes, it's almost scary.   
  
"All right, enough with the heavy conversations," Carter declares. "We only have a couple of days  
left. Let's get out there and do something."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"What, you want me to come up with everything? I came up with the whole getting out of bed  
plan. Now it's your turn."  
  
"Hey, my big plan is to lounge around in bed for a few more hours. If you've got a better  
suggestion, I'm all ears."  
  
He remains silent for a while, and I think I've won. But then he speaks again. "Let's go to Doc  
Magoo's and gorge ourselves on hot fudge sundaes."  
  
"And why should we do that?"  
  
"So that we can work off the calories together later tonight."  
  
Sounds like a plan to me. I'm out of bed and in the shower in a matter of minutes. As soon as  
I'm done in the shower, he hops right in. I don't even bother turning off the water. I stand in  
front of the mirror, blow drying my hair, and a few minutes later, Carter is standing next to me,  
playfully pushing me out of the way so he can shave.   
  
We're in the process of getting dressed when I pause. "You know, it's eight-thirty in the  
morning. I think it might be a little too early to pig out on hot fudge."  
  
"Well, then, we'll find some way to amuse ourselves until the time is right. We always do."  
  
Yes, we do. 


	3. Pour Some Sugar On Me

Title: A Butterfly In Japan III: Pour Some Sugar On Me  
  
Rating: PG (maybe PG-13, but that's stretching it)  
  
Spoilers: Mainly just through season 8, though I would advise knowing of the Carby situation as  
of Season 9.  
  
Archive: It would rock my world. I'd just like to know who's going to rock my world, so email  
me first, please.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Get over it.  
  
Author's Notes: Once again, I'm not really quite sure how to take this chapter. It seems like it's  
kinda cute, but I don't know. It may have to be taken down for repairs or complete and total  
demolishment.  
  
*PS...reloaded to fix a few grammatical errors*  
  
  
  
  
Right now, I feel like a piece of meat.  
  
And not a very good piece of meat at that.  
  
Ugh. John and I just had dinner with his grandmother. That was a pretty little slice of hell on  
earth. This wasn't the first time I've met Gamma, but it's the first time I've met her as Carter's  
girlfriend. So I got inspected.  
  
He keeps telling me that his grandmother likes me, and she only comes off like a hard-ass to those  
who don't know her, but I know the truth. I fully messed up. I couldn't string together two  
coherent words the entire night. I dropped my fork (more than once), spilled water (again, more  
than once), and made a general fool of myself the all evening. I suppose my one saving grace is  
that I didn't humiliate myself in public; we had dinner at the mansion. Of course, that probably  
didn't help my nerves. We were on her turf, as opposed to the neutral ground of a restaurant.  
  
I don't know what possessed me to think it'd be a good idea to have dinner with his grandmother  
this early on in the relationship. We've only been together for a month. How the hell should I  
know what my intentions are toward her grandson? At that point in the evening, my only  
intention toward her grandson involved a bottle of chocolate syrup and a can of whipped creme.   
And that doesn't really make a terribly good impression on someone. Unless you're talking to a  
porn enthusiast or something.  
  
And she actually asked me what my intentions were toward him. She waited until he was out of  
the room to ask that, of course (let's make the girlfriend feel even more uncomfortable!). I had  
no response to that; I think I mumbled something about how I cared a lot about him and that I  
wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Can I get any more trite or cliche? Not  
likely.  
  
I was hell-bent on impressing this woman. I really want her to like me. It makes a relationship a  
whole lot easier when your significant other's family likes you. I know my mother likes John, so  
he really doesn't have anything to worry about. I, on the hand, am hopeless. He loves his  
grandmother; her opinion matters more to him than his parents' opinions. And if she thinks I'm a  
moron, then Carter isn't very far behind, I'm sure.  
  
Fortunately, the inquisition only lasted about three hours. I suppose it could've have been  
worse–there could have been a freak snow storm, trapping us all in the same house together, and  
then she really would have had a chance to hate me.  
  
The drive back to his apartment was relatively peaceful. A comment about the weather here, an  
amusing anecdote there, but I could tell that he was waiting for just the right moment to strike.  
  
And sure enough, almost as soon as we stepped in the door, he asks, "What's up, Abby?"  
  
"Nothing's up," I tell him, putting my bag on the table by the door. I wander over to the window  
and look out over the Chicago skyline.  
  
He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on the top of my  
head. I think he likes the fact that I'm so short. He's always commenting on how I fit with him  
perfectly. I like it, too, though. Whenever I hug him, or he stands behind me like this, I get to be  
surrounded by Carter. And it feels absolutely wonderful. Especially right now.  
  
"Then why are you so wound up?" he murmurs.  
  
"Mainly because your grandmother hates me."  
  
"She doesn't hate," he answers.  
  
"Could have fooled me."  
  
"Susan she hated. But she definitely likes you."  
  
"Then explain to me why she was giving me the evil eye all night."  
  
He chuckles. "She wasn't giving you the evil eye."  
  
"Well, she sure as hell was glaring at me."  
  
"I promise you she wasn't."  
  
I let my head loll back against his shoulder, and his chin comes to rest against my forehead. "I  
feel like I failed every one of those little tests she was giving me."  
  
"Abby, she wasn't testing you. Inspecting you, yes. I'll be honest with you about that. She likes  
to make sure that the girls I date are good enough for her grandson."  
  
I let out a disgruntled snort. "That means you'll be breaking up with me soon."  
  
"What?!" He removes his arms from their position around my waist and turns me around so  
we're facing one another. "Why on earth would I be breaking up with you?"  
  
I give him a look. "Are you going to tell me that she thought I was good enough for you?"  
  
"Actually, she did. Gamma really liked you, Abby. She thought your extreme nervousness was  
really cute. She said it showed her how important it was to you that you made a good  
impression."  
  
"Which I didn't."  
  
He sighs and stares at me for a good thirty seconds before speaking again. "Do you know what  
she said to me as we were leaving tonight?"  
  
"Get rid of her now before she fakes a pregnancy?"  
  
"Funny. She said, and this is a direct quote, 'She's a keeper.' Does that sound as if she doesn't  
like you? Why would she say that if she didn't think you were a good person?"  
  
That shocks me. I'm actually speechless for a few moments. "When did she say that?"  
  
"When we were leaving. You had just stepped outside, and as she was hugging me goodbye, she  
told me to hold on to you. Not that I wouldn't have anyway, but it's nice to know that Gamma  
shares the sentiment."  
  
I blink at him a few times before I decide I should probably sit down, so I head over to the couch  
and collapse, Carter following closely behind. "She thinks I'm a good person?"  
  
"Trust me, she's well on her way to adoring you."  
  
"Adoring me? Why?"  
  
"For a lot of reasons. First of all, what's not to adore? It didn't take me long to get there." With  
that, he leans over and kisses me. Ah, bliss. I wish there was someway we could get through life  
while being connected at the lips. And why does he always have to be so damn sweet?  
  
"She also really appreciates that you came to Grandpa's funeral last year. She knows it meant a  
lot to me to have you there. I think one of her big reasons is that she said she hasn't seen me  
smile this much in years. Anyone who can make me this happy is wonderful in her book. So,  
stop worrying." He gives me an adorable little teasing grin. "You have the Gamma stamp of  
approval. She has no worries about the gold-digger alarm ever being triggered. You're as good  
as gold."  
  
I wrap my arms around his midsection and lean against his side. We sit in silence for a while  
before he finally asks, as I knew he would, "Why are you so concerned with what Gamma thinks  
of you? You've never cared much about people's opinions about you."  
  
I shrug. "She's your grandmother. I know she means a lot to you, so I wanted her to like me.   
Even though I have no intentions of backing off in the near or distant future, I didn't know how  
you'd feel about being with someone that your grandmother disapproves of."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't be happy if she disapproved of you, but it wouldn't stop me from seeing you.   
As much as I love Gamma, it's not her life. Her opinion matters to me, but if I let it get to me too  
much, I wouldn't be a doctor. I'd be working the family business or something."  
  
I smile into his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess that's true."  
  
"But you really have nothing to worry about because she thinks you're great. Feel any better  
now?" I nod. "So relax."  
  
I do relax for a moment, until a horrifying thought flickers through my brain. "What about your  
parents? Oh, my God, I don't think I can take this. I mean, your mother seems to have issues  
with me as it is, and I've barely met the woman. How is she going to react to me being a semi-  
permanent figure in your life?"  
  
"First of all, I'd hardly call you a semi-permanent figure, and second, Mom has chilled out a lot  
since the first time you met her. I think we've actually come to an understanding. She trying her  
best to be my mother, and I'm doing what I can to be her son."  
  
"Well, I'm happy for you about that. But you've got to think...adding me to that mix might not  
be very pretty."  
  
"If either of them don't like it, tough. Like I said, it's my life. Nothing my parents say could stop  
me from being with you. And don't forget that." He bends down a little and kisses my nose.   
"The only bad part for you is that you'll probably have to meet them individually. I doubt they'd  
really agree to have dinner together to meet you. Unless you're interested in seeing a reenactment  
of the Cold War."  
  
I laugh a little at that. "No, not especially."  
  
"So, if you want, next time one or the other is in town, we can arrange to meet them for dinner or  
something. You can get it out of the way as soon as possible. I know it's stressful to meet the  
parents and that sort of thing, and my particular breed of parents don't help the equation much."  
  
"Do your parents even know that you're seeing someone?"  
  
He's silent for a few moments before he laughs. "I don't think they even know I was locked in  
the hospital for two weeks. It's been a while since we talked."  
  
"Well, let me know the next time they're in town and we'll talk about it."  
  
"Sounds like a plan."  
  
I pull off my shoes and bring my feet up so that I'm curled up on the couch, then I move myself  
so that I'm closer to John, if that's at all possible. We're silent for a while, just enjoying each  
other's company, and me thinking a lot about tonight's events. I'm still kind of amazed that  
Gamma likes me that much. I never thought that she was some snooty, stuck-up debutante or  
something (I've thought things like that about his mother from time to time, but not his  
grandmother), but I never expected her to really like me. I figured she'd have the same thoughts  
toward me that she did about Susan: Some girl that her grandson is dating, who made a tiny little  
faux-pas and, for that one simple transgression, is now permanently black balled. I guess I did  
something right, though.  
  
At some point, I chuckle softly to myself.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I was just thinking about something your grandmother asked me."  
  
"What'd she ask?"  
  
"She asked what my intentions are toward you."  
  
"When did she ask that?"  
  
I shake my head. "She crafty. She waited until you left the table to go check on desert or  
something."  
  
"I can't believe she actually asked you your intentions." He pauses, then lets his curiosity get the  
better of him. "What did you say?"  
  
"Not what I was thinking, that's for sure."  
  
"Now I'm intrigued."  
  
"I don't know, I think I said something along the lines of me caring about you a lot and wanting  
to spend as much time with you as possible. I can't be sure. I wasn't doing a good job of  
speaking my native language at the moment. Apparently, Hooked on Phonics didn't work for  
me."  
  
I feel him smile against my hair. "And what was it that you were thinking, Miss Lockhart?"  
  
I grin devilishly. "I was thinking that my main intentions toward you at that moment were to get  
you home and break out the chocolate syrup and whipped creme."  
  
"Ooo." He stands up and moves toward the kitchen. "Do we have that?"  
  
I get up and follow him. "I bought them both at the store the other night. I thought it could be  
interesting." I go to the fridge and pull out both condiments. "I even got the economy size.   
Better to have too much that too little, I like to say."  
  
"You didn't get any cherries, did you?"  
  
I have to bite the inside of my lip from making a really awful comment, and instead say, "Not this  
time. You'll just have to make do with what you have."  
  
He waggles his eyebrows at me playfully. "I have more than enough." With one hand, he grabs  
the syrup and whipped creme, and takes my hand in the other, and starts pulling me to the  
bedroom. "Come on, Abby, we're wasting time."  
  
"You got something better to do?" I ask, more than willing to follow him into the bedroom.  
  
"I've got better things to do than sit around and talk about making a hot Abby sundae. Especially  
when I can be using that time to actually make it. So, let's go!" By this time, we've reached the  
bedroom, and John has kicked the door shut behind him. "All right. Who's first?"  
  
Oh, this is gonna be fun. 


	4. Make Me Lose Control

Title: A Butterfly In Japan IV: Make Me Lose Control  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: At the most, for "Chaos Theory." (yes, I'm kicking it old school), and the other stories in my Butterfly in Japan stories.  
  
Archive: Yes please.  
  
Disclaimer: In my twisted mind, yes, they're mine. In the rest of the world (which isn't nearly as interesting as my mind), I own nothing.  
  
Feedback: Smashing.  
  
Author's Notes: Look out below!  
  
My message is really depressing.  
  
Okay, let me clarify. My answering machine message is really depressing. I don't personally have some kind of public message that I find to be horribly depressing.  
  
But the message is just so flat and monotone. "Hi, this is Abby. I'm not here. Leave a message."  
  
See? Depressing. I sound really...blah. Like I'm not really expecting anyone to call me or something, so why bother with something more interesting.  
  
Not that I want to do some sort of song and dance number for my answering machine, but something that doesn't sound like I'm sadly kicking cans down the street would be nice.  
  
It occurred to me, though, when I called to check my messages from the hospital. I had to listen to my message before I could hear anything else, and I almost wanted to jump off a ledge just listening to it.  
  
Well, that's a little over dramatic, but it was still pretty bad.  
  
So, I told Carter that I was going back to my place instead of his, because I had some things to do, but suggested that he come visit when he got off work.  
  
However, changing my answering machine message wasn't all I had to do.  
  
No, I had bigger fish to fry than changing my message.  
  
Bigger fish as in calling my mother.  
  
She had left me a few messages, and since I've been spending so much time at Carter's lately, I didn't really think about checking to see if anyone had called. So, I figured I should give her a call before she sent out the hounds.  
  
And we had The Talk. Well, maybe not The Talk, but at least A Talk.  
  
I figured, as my mother, she should know that I have a boyfriend, and not to be alarmed if she should call and a man answers the phone.  
  
She was really happy for me, though. Especially when I told her that Carter's my boyfriend. I'd say she was downright ecstatic. She's always had a soft-spot where he's concerned. I think she's always wanted me to hook-up with him.  
  
Oh, God. Hook-up? I've been listening to Susan too much.  
  
But, we talked for a while about me and Carter, how we got together, how things were going with us, even where I saw this relationship going. It was a very strange experience for me, talking to my mother about my life like that. We've had very few conversations of that ilk in the past. It was kind of nice, though. It really felt like she was my mom.  
  
Her main concern was my happiness. She said that as long as I was happy, that was all that mattered. She need not worry, because I've never been this happy in my life.  
  
Have I mentioned lately how much I love the early stages of a relationship?  
  
Anyway, I'm now attempting to think of some way to make my message a tad more upbeat. I've already tried several times, and they all come out sounding the same as the original. Maybe it's just my imagination.  
  
I'm in the middle of trying again when I hear the door creak open. I look over my shoulder, and there stands Carter, of course. He gives me a grin and drops his bag on the floor.  
  
"Hey there," he says, wandering over to the couch and flopping down.  
  
"Hi," I answer, returning the smile, then realize that I'm still holding down the record button on the machine. I release it, and it lets out several loud beeps, letting me know that the message has been saved.  
  
"What're you up to?" he asks, casting a curious glance at the machine.  
  
I shrug, and walk over to the couch. "My message sounded really depressing, so I decided to change it." I lean over the back of the couch and give him a kiss. "How was the rest of your shift?" He gets up so he's sitting on his knees so I don't have to lean over so far. "The usual. Pretty boring, actually. Especially since you weren't there for the last few hours of it and I had no one to flirt with."  
  
"You could have flirted with Frank. I think he has the hots for you, anyway."  
  
"Yeah, I've always suspected that he wants my body."  
  
I giggle softly (yes, I giggle) and press my lips to his once more.  
  
"Oh, yeah. I talked to my mom today."  
  
"How's she doing?"  
  
"Really well. Taking her meds everyday, going to work, taking care of her dog, living a normal life, as far as I can tell. We had a Talk, though."  
  
"Uh-oh," he says, sitting back down. "That doesn't sound good."  
  
"Not that kind of talk. This was the one where I told her not to worry if a man answers the phone because I now have a boyfriend."  
  
I don't miss the smile that plays over his lips as I call him my boyfriend. Even after a month and a half, we still like hearing someone say that he's my boyfriend or I'm his girlfriend, even if it's just one of us saying it to the other.  
  
"How'd she take the news?"  
  
"About how I expected."  
  
He looks a little puzzled. "Did she take it badly?"  
  
"Well, if you call being ecstatic 'badly,' then yes. She took it very badly."  
  
"She was ecstatic?"  
  
"Oh, definitely. You know she's always had a special place for you in her heart. And she's been telling me since she met you that we should be together. So now she can rest easy. Though I did notice a distinct 'told you so' tone in her voice."  
  
Carter just grins. "Well, I'm glad I have the Maggie seal of approval."  
  
I just roll my eyes. "As if there was ever any doubt."  
  
He pulls on my arm a little, and I bend down again. He puts his hand on the back of my head and kisses me once more. The bad part about being away from him, even for a few hours, is that I don't get to kiss him. The good part about being away from him is that we make up for it.  
  
"Okay," he tells me. "Go finish the message thing. I'll still be here for you to molest once you're done."  
  
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes again. I try to average one eye roll per five minute block-anything more than that seems to annoy him. "Yeah, 'cause you know I can't keep my hands off of you."  
  
He just waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively. "And who was sitting on whose lap in the lounge today?"  
  
I reach out and rumple his hair, making him swat at my hands. "I sit on your lap because if we did it the other way around, you would crush me."  
  
"I never hear you complain when I'm on top of you for other reasons."  
  
I know I'm blushing. I don't know why I'm blushing, but I know my face is red. "I have more important things on my mind than worrying about you crushing me when we're in that situation." I start to move away from the couch, mainly so he can't see that he somehow managed to make me blush. But he grabs my arm before I can get very far.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Stroking your ego, telling you that you're a stallion, and you're amazing, and then the obligatory moaning and groaning so I don't hurt your feelings."  
  
He looks crushed, but I know he's faking it. "You've wounded me, Abby. You've wounded me deep." He's even clutching at his heart for emphasis.  
  
I lean down and give him one more quick kiss before disentangling myself. "Don't quit your day job, Carter; you're not much of an actor."  
  
"That's it. Kick me while I'm down. You know, I don't have to take this kind of abuse."  
  
"And yet, for some reason, you do."  
  
"I know. I'm a masochist."  
  
I shake my head and move back to the answering machine. I press the record button and say, "Hi, this is Abby, I'm not-" and then I pause. I turn around slowly and see that Carter is just sitting there, watching me.  
  
"Yes?" "Nothin'."  
  
"Well, don't watch me while I'm doing this. It makes me too self- conscious."  
  
He throws his hands up in surrender and heads toward the bedroom. I watch him until he's out of my line of sight, knowing I'm being irrational about this. It's just a stupid message.  
  
I go to press the record button and realize that I never released it to begin with. I sigh, release the button, let it beep, then press it again. "Hi, you've reached Abby-"  
  
I'm interrupted by "Let's Get It On" suddenly blaring through my apartment. I jump in surprise, and whip around to find Carter standing by my stereo, a devilish grin on his face.  
  
"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"  
  
He doesn't deny it; he just grins even bigger, but at least he turns off the music.  
  
I turn around once more, smiling to myself because the thought of having that song playing in the background of my answering machine is actually pretty funny, and tempting, to some degree, and repeat the now-familiar process with my answering machine, and begin again. "Hi, this is Abby, I can't come to-"  
  
This time I'm interrupted by Barry White's "You're My First, My Last, My Everything." I didn't even remember I had this kind of music until just now.  
  
I don't turn around this time. "John..."  
  
I can just picture the innocent look on his face. "Yes?"  
  
"If you don't knock it off, I'm going to tie your hands down."  
  
"Promises, promises."  
  
I slowly walk over to my stereo and resist the urge to rip the plug out of the wall. I still find it funny, but it's a matter of principle now. And I'm not really mad at Carter, but he has a habit of acting like he's ten at times, which is usually kind of endearing. Instead, I just hit the power button and give him a look.  
  
He hangs his head and looks at me from under his eyelashes. "I'll be good," he mumbles, shuffling his feet for effect.  
  
"Somehow, I doubt that,"I answer, going back over to my phone. It really shouldn't be this hard to tell people that I'm not at home.  
  
I try it again, though. "This is Abby-"  
  
"And her love slave John Carter."  
  
How the hell did he get behind me? I thought he was still standing across the room. The man must have feet like a cat.  
  
"No way," I tell him, even though by this point I'm trying my best not to laugh. It'll only encourage him.  
  
He knows, though. He just grins and waits for me try again. I cover his mouth with one hand, and press the record button with the other.  
  
"Hi, you've reached Abby Lockhart, I'm not here right now, but if-"  
  
Now I'm paranoid because he's being too quiet. I keep expecting him to do something new. I look over at him again, and he's simply standing there, looking innocent.  
  
"Well?" I ask.  
  
He pulls his mouth away from my hand. "Well, what? I was behaving. I didn't do anything this time."  
  
"You can't blame me for being suspicious."  
  
"I can't believe you don't trust your own boyfriend."  
  
I just raise my eyebrows at him.  
  
"Okay, fine, maybe I can."  
  
I sigh and turn back to the phone to try it one more time. "Hi, you've reached Abby-"  
  
"And John."  
  
I look over my shoulder at him. "No, you don't live here. You just hang around and mooch off of me."  
  
"You know you love it."  
  
I look back to the machine and realize that once again I've forgotten to stop recording. For whatever reason, I decide to try to finish out the message, even though I know I'll have to fix it again. Maybe I want to actually be able to finish one, even if it's unusable.  
  
"Anyway, I'm not home right now-" "We're not home right now."  
  
I chose to ignore him.  
  
"So leave your-"  
  
"Or maybe I have her chained to the bed."  
  
My head whips around and I yelp out, "Carter!"  
  
He just grins at me cheekily. "Sorry. Forgot that was our little secret."  
  
I think I flare my nostrils at him. "Fine. We're not home right now, so leave a message and we'll get back to you."  
  
He just shrugs and says, "See? Now was that so hard?"  
  
I finally release the record button and just look at him. "You know, all I want out of life right now is to record a new message. I really don't think I'm asking for so much."  
  
"What're you talking about? You just recorded your message."  
  
"I can't keep that!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It's...it's..." What is it, really? "It's goofy."  
  
"So what?"  
  
"Well, what if someone important calls or something?"  
  
He just looks at me like I've grown another head. "Again, so what? It's a message on an answering machine. Half the time, they're goofy. Much goofier than that. Besides, I think it's cute." He reaches around me and presses the preview button so he can hear it again.  
  
"Hi, you've reached Abby-"  
  
"And John."  
  
"No, you don't live here. You just hang around and mooch off of me."  
  
"You know you love it."  
  
"Anyway, I'm not home right now-" "We're not home right now."  
  
"So leave your-"  
  
"Or maybe I have her chained to the bed."  
  
"Carter!"  
  
"Sorry. Forgot that was our little secret."  
  
"Fine, we're not home right now, so leave a message and we'll get back to you."  
  
"See? Now was that so hard?"  
  
Carter smiles at me. "I think it's great. You should definitely keep it."  
  
"How would you like it if I left a message like that at your apartment?"  
  
He shrugged. "I wouldn't care. I think it'd be kind of fun, actually."  
  
I can't resist him. He may be annoying at times, but...I can't resist him. I lean up and give him a quick kiss. "Fine. Then we'll leave a goofy message at your place tomorrow or something." I reach over to hit record again, when he grabs my arm, turns me around, puts me over his shoulder. Well, this is new.  
  
"Nah. I think you should leave it like that for a while," he tells me, carrying me in the direction of my bedroom.  
  
"Uh, Carter? Would you mind putting me down?" I'm still kind of shocked, which is probably why I'm not really struggling.  
  
"Gladly," he answers, and then he's lowering me onto the bed. He kneels in front of me and starts kissing my neck.  
  
Not that I'm complaining, but...what the hell is going on here? "What're you doing?" Obviously, I'm not too distressed by his actions since I tilt my head to one side so he has better access.  
  
"Trying to distract you. Is it working?"  
  
That's one way of putting it. I think the message can wait. I scoot back on the bed, trying to pull him with me as he moves his lips up to my mouth. It takes a moment of fumbling and sliding around a bit, but we finally make it to a lying down position.  
  
No, I'm definitely not complaining about his weight on me now.  
  
I don't know how long we stay like that, though we don't get much beyond kissing and some light groping. I vaguely hear the phone ring in some distant corner of my mind, and know I should worry about it, but can't for the life of me remember why.  
  
And then I hear the message click on. What are the odds, really, that someone would call in the brief time frame that I've decided to keep that message? I frantically pull my mouth away from Carter's and try to push him off of me.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asks, looking concerned, moving to let me up.  
  
"The message!" I push myself out of bed, somehow managing to remember that the only way to stop the answering machine is to actually go and stop it- answering the phone won't work.  
  
All of a sudden, his arms are around my waist and he's pulling me back to him. "Relax. It's just a message."  
  
"But..."  
  
But before I can complete that thought, the message is over and I hear nothing. Is it too much to hope for that whoever it was hung up before they heard the whole message? Apparently, because now I can hear someone laughing on the other end. Oh, God. It's my mother. Didn't I just talk to her?  
  
I put my hands over my face and moan. It doesn't help any that Carter's laughing, too.  
  
I finally hear my mom's voice. "Umm...I was going to tell you something else, but it must've slipped my mind. I'll call back later."  
  
"Well, it's probably a good thing you told her about us today, isn't it?"  
  
I roll over and look at my chortling boyfriend. "You are so dead."  
  
"Hey, it could've been worse. Just imagine if my parents had heard that one."  
  
"That's not the point. I don't want my mother hearing about you chaining me to the bed, regardless of whether or not it's true. There are just some things better left unsaid."  
  
"I think she knows it's a joke, Abby." He leans over and starts kissing my neck again. Damn him. "Don't worry about it; you can't change it now."  
  
It's not going to work this time. He's not going to distract me. I'm going to go right now and change that message. Then I turn my head so I can kiss him.  
  
Maybe later.  
  
Right now...I have bigger fish to fry.  
  
Author's Notes: Okay, crazy shout outs to C-dawg, who has been an enormous help to me with this story. This is the first time I've hashed out a story with someone, ever. And she totally kept me grounded, even though I struggle to flap my little wings. And, I have to give a shout out to the other member of the Brothel, Alex, if for no other reason than the fact that she rocks, and she's one of my Thursday night buddies. As to where this story came from, I was tired of writing angst. I needed something light and fluffy and pointless, and this idea came to me at 2:30 in the morning when I was running on no sleep. If nothing else, it made me laugh. 


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